


Heads and Tails

by AliceinHyruleBastion



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Don't mind me K, It's sappy again whoops, M/M, Song fic, Violins!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceinHyruleBastion/pseuds/AliceinHyruleBastion
Summary: A concert by the lonely violinist prince of Lucis-But this time- for the first time- he's got a partner in his performance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Back again with my next uploads! Honestly, I was completely blown away by the responses to Not With a Bang But a Whimper, and I'm so glad you enjoyed it!
> 
> Here's a little sweet songfic I wrote with a fiddler and and violinist in mind (and pretty violins to which I pretended to ignore how acoustics work for a little bit ssh) and this happened. 
> 
> The lyrics are to Ed Sheeran's "Nancy Mulligan".
> 
> Once again, comments and critiques are appreciated!

Tonight was a night of celebration, nerves, and revelation, and the entire room felt it. 

 

Gathered in the hall of the Insomnian ballroom, royals and commoners alike were nestled together and bustled about in swaths of bright fabric and noise, hushed and restrained as they waited for the performance to start.

 

Tonight, the prince himself would be performing, but it was not his typical small, family and friends only performance-

Tonight, he would be sharing his music for all.

 

It was common knowledge that the prince was classically trained on the violin, and that he was able to make spider-ink notes on stale paper sing and run like raining inks; almost always solo spare the odd pianist here and there. For the rare few who had seen him, it was told that the quiet, reserved prince came  _ alive _ with the music, always spinning the simple notes into notes of silver, though it was noticed that classical- traditional, unwavering classical- was all he ever played. 

 

Something  _ different _ stirred in the air here, something subtle but electric and completely new from the usual pre-concert apprehension. Something was going to explode, and the audience could feel it, all backgrounds lost to the anticipation of glorious music.

 

So, as the very man they were waiting for headed to the center of the room- which had been kept clear of people-, the audience fell into a sudden hush, the room still as if everyone had started holding their breath. He stepped into the clearing, shuffling past the ring of seated instrumentalists, which already had the audience's interest piqued as Insomnia's lonely violinist bowed to everyone in greeting.

 

He was dressed in a double-breasted black tailcoat with dark blue lining, and had tight pants tucked into knee-high boots. He held his violin and bow by his side, but it was not his typical one: it was matte-black and elegantly curved, the shape revealing to the audience that it was electric. The most striking feature was the bottom, which was fitted in glass and had elegant violet crocus blossoms pressed into it, softly illuminated by the ballroom lights. It was gorgeous and unique, and something he had never played on before. 

Where had it come from? Who made it? Why was he playing on that piece today instead of his normal one?

 

These questions went unanswered as he drew himself up, making eye contact with the instrumentalists in front of him, and lifting his violin. As he shifted it on his collar bone, his dark hair moved away from his face, and it looked as if there was a smear of color there, but as he lifted his head his hair obscured it again, leaving it as nothing more than a passing and quickly forgotten glimpse. 

 

Lifting his bow, he nodded to the guitar player sitting to his left, and with deft fingers, flipped his bow over his fingers until it was out of the way, leaving his fingers free as he started playing pizzicato in unison with the guitar, the plucked notes deep and swarthy. It was sharp and earthy, not the usual smooth streaks of the normal music he played, and left the audience frozen in surprise as his foot started to tap to the upbeat rhythm, his eyes sliding shut before he opened his mouth and  _ sang _ :

 

_ "I was twenty-four years old _

_ when I met the woman I would call my own, _

_ Twenty-two grandkids now growing old  _

_ in the house the house that your brother bought ya." _

 

It was a ballad brought to life by the dark-water drips of his voice, the sound new and unknown as he sang for the first time in a performance. It was deep but lightly baritone, settling into the notes like a river over stones, just barely slipping from his usual clean tone with the faint bite of dialect.

 

As he finished the lines, he dropped his hand from the violin and opened his eyes as pipes started to play a sweet melody, and in unison  with them was another violin-

But it was not Noctis.

No, the sound came from high overhead from the balconies of the second floor, flatter and wider yet sharply sweet, the tang of it lifting around the ears of the audience as they looked around for the source of the sound. Above them, they saw a hidden figure with their back to them, watching as their shadow deftly played the curious notes.

 

The audience paused in reverie as they heard the jaunt, as it seemed to familiar to the sound of Noctis' violin playing before, but... different.

As the sound stopped and the next line started, they realized it was not the sound of a violinist, but of a hidden  _ fiddler _ : 

And a hidden duet partner.

 

Noctis continued singing, still plucking the notes underneath the words but with the soft sound of a bodrham drumming with the syllables. 

 

_ "On the summer day when I proposed  _

_ I made that wedding ring from dentist gold, _

_ And I asked her father but her daddy said 'No, _

_ You can't marry my daughter.'"  _

 

At the last two lines he looked up to his father sitting the back of the room, giving him a joking smile as he started the chorus, flipping his bow back into his hand as he fit the edge of it to the strings.

 

_ "She and I went on the run, _

_ Don't care about religion, _

_ I'm gonna marry the woman I love, _

_ Down by the Wexford border." _

 

With the second half of each line, he pulled the bow across the strings in warm emphasis, his own body moving to the sound of the melody as the audience started to relax into the sound, the air filling with warm familial nostalgia as they eagerly listened for the rest of the story.

 

_ "She was Nancy Mulligan, _

_ And I was William Sheeran, _

_ She took my name and then we were one, _

_ Down by the Wexford border." _

 

With the conclusion of the chorus, Noctis played softer as the fiddler joined in again, louder and more jubilant, the sound having moved from one side of the ballroom to the other. As they repeated their melody, the band joined in louder with a soft "Hey!" picking up the breath point, and the sound of the fiddle started to move around the balcony floor again. 

 

As the break reached its end, the sound of the fiddle had blossomed, the notes pulling apart like warm amber honey, settling into the audience like a summer sunset. The second verse suddenly started up, and as Noctis began singing, lights came up on the top of the stairs, revealing the fiddler finishing his verse enthusiastically, moving down the stairs to the beat of the words as Noctis turned his head toward him, still playing his own notes. (No one could miss the smile that broke over his face as sang the next verse.)

 

_ "Well I met her at Guy's in the Second World War _

_ And she was working on a soldier's ward, _

_ Never had I seen such beauty before, _

_ The moment that I saw her." _

 

The fiddler had made his way into the circle by the middle of the verse, playing occasional harmony pick up notes, shooting Noctis a neon grin as he stood next to him. He was dressed in the same style coat as Noctis, though he wore a dazzlingly white jacket with gold lining instead of black, and had a smudge of purple just under his eye. Closer inspection revealed that it was actually a flower petal pasted onto his skin, and was identical to the blossoms in Noctis's violin. 

 

The band was in full swing now, and the audience had gotten over their initial shock and had joined into the merriment of the song as the next words seeped through the air.

 

_ "Nancy was my yellow rose  _

_ And we got married wearing borrowed clothes, _

_ We got eight children now growing old, _

_ Five sons and three daughters." _

(At the beginning line, Prompto, the fiddler, had flipped his cherry-wood fiddle to flash the bottom of it briefly to audience, smiling intently as they caught a glimpse of the yellow blossoms-the same as the blotch of color on Noctis' cheek- pressed into the glass of it.)

 

Noctis sang through the chorus again, much more relaxed and open then he has been at the beginning, playing with a soft smile on his face as he watched Prompto pull his bow smoothly over his strings, his body loose and foot tapping to the beat freely. 

 

As the second chorus ended, the room had fully warmed up and had joined in, singing to the melody of the fiddle and clapping, their feet stomping to the beat as both performers played, cheering along.

 

Just before the third verse started, Prompto snagged a chair from one of the instrumentalists and leapt up onto it, opening his arms wide to the audience, enrapturing them as  _ he _ took up the melody this time, his voice higher and sweeter than Noctis like light shining through the ocean surface. He moved passionately to the words as if he bore them on his heart, boot stamping to the rhythm the whole time he sang, gently holding his fiddle by its neck as he moved his arms to the words.

 

_ "From the snow-white streak in her jet black hair, _

_ Over sixty years I've been loving her, _

_ Now we're sat by the fire in our old armchairs, _

_ You know Nancy, I adore ya." _

(At the last line he half-turned to Noctis, gesturing at him with the bow in his hand and a shy, goofy smile on his face before he continued the next lines, the guitar and Noctis playing the pizzicato from the beginning of the song underneath him.)

 

_ "From a farm boy born in Belfast town, _

_ I never worried about the king and crown, _

_ 'Cause I found my heart upon the southern ground, _

_ There's no difference I assure ya." _

(With these lines he sang directly to the people in front of him as if in question, gesturing around to the ballroom before dropping his arms with a sober expression.)

 

He hopped off his chair and stood back next to Noctis as they started the chorus one last time, though both sang as well as played, the mix of Prompto's tenor melody melting together with the sweet harmony of Noctis' notes into colors that smeared the chamber in  _ life,  _ the duet of the violins blending with the rest of the instruments in a sappy and warm ocean of comfort, the twang of the fiddle set off by the smooth notes of the violin. 

 

As the final words drifted away into the ceiling, the band took it up a notch as the audience started to sing and clap loudly, stamping their feet to the music as Noctis and Prompto played, shooting each other glances of challenge as their styles clashed like a duel, like a courtship, their feet moving to the music in steps that tapped and twisted along the marble floor, spinning them around each other and into the people like a breathless laugh. 

 

They finished the song with a flourish of their bows and a happy shout from the audience before the cheering dissolved into uproarious applause. They looked at each other giddily before bowing deeply, all open smiles as they caught their breath.

 

It was an incredible and unexpected performance, and the king looked on in warm amusement and awe at what his son had been able to do to an entire room. He has known that he would be performing with that friend of his, but he has been wary, knowing how emotions and open passion were not Noctis' strongest suit. But, look at what he has done! He had set the room  _ free _ , and everyone, from those of royal birth to the commons people had joined together with their music. 

 

He watched the two boys- young men?- laugh and thank the audience, and he marveled at just how open and exposed Noctis was in the presence of that fiddler. (He wondered just how many of those lyrics had been simply storytelling, and which were his own hidden truths.) A boy from the common city had managed to work his way into the heart of not only the prince, but of his Guard too, with that aura of a fresh breath and sunlight in his every gesture that sweetly charmed the audience in its wake.

 

Regis was happy for his son, and just hoped he'd be able to enjoy that blissful innocence for a little while longer.

(He also tries not to laugh as he sees Prompto swat Noctis in the ass with his bow, earning a softened glare more out of embarrassment than anger.)

 

_ Well, he'll be fine _ , he thinks with a heart of wistful nostalgia.

He knows he will be.


End file.
